Nothing
by ephemereal
Summary: Are we nothing too? Am I? Oneshot.


**_Author's Note: _My 50th fic for ff.n. Based on the speedrent prompt "lyric fic." **

* * *

**Nothing**

"_to making something out of nothing, the need to express, to communicate"_

"Roger. Nothing happened. Benny and me…we had a thing once, but it's over. It was a year ago…before I met you." She attempts to lay a hand on his shoulder, but he pulls away roughly. His elbow comes into contact with her side, and Mimi winces silently, though she tells herself he's just upset.

"I don't care." He makes to run away, but she stumbles after him, making another grab at his arm. She is painfully aware of the others' eyes on them, but she isn't about to let Roger storm off. She's had enough lost relationships to know that this is how the downward avalanche starts. She isn't about to sit idly by and watch it happen again. Humility has always been her weakness, Angel says.

"How about the Life?" suggests Mark, too loudly. "Celebrate our uneviction."

"Count me in," says Angel, shooting Mimi a sympathetic glance. She grabs Collins by the arm, and the three of them make their way out.

Roger whirls again, and Mimi lets go of his arm, suddenly afraid. She's never felt this way around him before, thought that she never would again now. It's a feeling all too familiar when it comes to love.

"Nothing happened," she repeats boldly, though she knows it isn't entirely true. She blinks hard, trying to banish the images of Benny, the smile on his face, and the smell of his cologne. The almost-wish that she could go back to the way things were.

"Then why the hell didn't you tell me you went to see Benny? Why the _fucking hell _didn't you tell me about the two of you before?" He practically spits the words at her, and suddenly she wants to cry. She's always had this problem; the moment anyone starts yelling, it makes her remember how much she hates herself.

"Because I knew that you'd do this!" She hates the sound of her voice, hates the tremor of it, the rise in pitch she's never been able to control.

"I'm not fucking doing anything!" Roger storms over to the newly returned couch and sits on top of a pile of clothes that's stacked on it. He looks like a pouty child, but the humor of it is lost on Mimi.

"Yes you are." She moves to stand across from him, afraid in spite of herself to get too close. "You're making this into such a goddamn big thing. It's nothing."

"Am I nothing too? Are we?" For the first time, she sees the fear in his eyes and recognizes it as her own. There is something beyond jealousy in his voice now—something hinging on desperation.

Mimi climbs up onto the couch beside him and sits, her legs curled under her. The fear is gone now, replaced by sympathy and a burning desire to know just what it is that's made him so protective. "Why do you even need to ask?"

Roger stares at her hard for a moment, but then his gaze begins to soften, as it always does when he allows himself to really see her. He starts to say something, then clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head, the wall going back up.

"Roger, what happened? Why won't you tell me?" She leans up and puts both hands on his shoulders, willing him to relax. He continues to stare at the floor, but doesn't pull away.

"I happened," says Roger slowly. "And I wish to god they'd let me go." He's talking more to himself now than to her, but she lets him go on, hoping that it'll help anyway. He looks faraway, a man lost in a nightmare.

"I fucked her and when I was done she didn't want to live anymore." He shudders, still looking down. "I'm nothing, Mimi. I'm worse than nothing. I'm disaster."

"Roger…" She sucks in a slow breath, realizing suddenly what he's talking about. How afraid it's made him underneath.

"Don't tell me it's all right." His head snaps up, and Mimi wants to shrink under the intensity of his eyes. "It's not. Thought maybe I'd have a better chance with you. And look. Fuck that."

She presses a hand to the side of his face and very gently kisses him, smiling against his lips as he finally relaxes into her. There is something in his eyes, though she can't say for sure that he's really crying. Roger Davis doesn't cry, at least never in her experience.

"Is this nothing?" she says at last, her lips still brushing his as she speaks.

"I don't know," says Roger, with that soft intensity that only he can muster. "But I don't want it to be."

Mimi smiles and gets to her feet, pulling him up with her. "Then let's do something about it."

* * *

Review please!


End file.
